A Ninja Calamity is a Hufflepuff at Hogwarts

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"You've been working yourself too hard," the manager insisted. "Everyone needs a break sometimes. Maybe you should take a day off, rest, and come back refreshed."

Anabella shook her head, a hint of stubbornness in her eyes. "I can't. I need to keep going."

The manager frowned, not wanting to push too hard but unable to ignore the signs. "Please, just think about it," she urged gently. "We care about you, Anabella."

Anabella nodded absentmindedly, already turning back to her work, signaling the end of the conversation.

Later that day, the bell above the bakery door jingled, signaling new customers. Anabella looked up to see Clair and Noah entering, their expressions brightening at the sight of her. They had taken to visiting her often, their presence a comforting reminder of their support.

"Hey, Anabella!" Clair greeted, her smile warm but her eyes quickly narrowing as she took in Anabella's pale complexion and dark circles under her eyes. "Are you okay? You look exhausted."

Noah stepped closer, concern evident in his gaze. "Yeah, you don't look like you're getting much rest."

Anabella waved a flour-dusted hand dismissively, forcing a laugh. "I'm fine, really. Just a little tired. The usual bakery rush, you know?"

Clair exchanged a glance with Noah, both of them unconvinced but unwilling to push her too hard in public. "If you say so," Clair murmured, her voice laced with doubt. "But maybe you should take it easy."

"I'll be fine," Anabella insisted, the edges of her smile faltering slightly. "Thanks for checking in, though."

As they left, Clair and Noah shared a look of mutual concern. Anabella's laughter might have fooled others, but not them. 

They knew something deeper was troubling her, and they resolved to find a way to help, whether Anabella was ready to accept it or not.

Anabella continued to push herself at the bakery, her every movement mechanical, her mind locked in a haze of fatigue. 

She could feel a heaviness settling into her bones, a sign that she might be coming down with something. 

The occasional dizzy spell and the faint ache in her limbs were becoming harder to ignore, but she dismissed them, focusing instead on kneading dough and serving customers.

Her gaze drifted to the calendar hanging on the wall, the dates meticulously marked with various reminders. As she scanned the days, her eyes stopped on a particular date circled in red. 

The significance of it felt just out of reach, lingering at the edge of her memory. She frowned, trying to recall why she had marked that day, but the answer evaded her.

Suddenly, a sharp pang shot through her lower abdomen, causing her to gasp and clutch her stomach. 

The sensation was familiar, too familiar, and it made her pale. Her breath quickened as realization dawned—her heat was approaching. The tightening in her core and the subtle, growing warmth spreading through her body confirmed it.

Anabella's hands trembled as she gripped the edge of the counter, her mind racing. She wasn't ready for this. 

Not now, not when her life was already spiraling out of control. The thought of enduring a heat in her current state, vulnerable and alone, filled her with fear.

Her heat had always been a private, well-managed affair, something she prepared for meticulously to avoid any disruptions or public embarrassment. 

But this time, the usual signs had crept up on her without warning, catching her off guard.

She closed her eyes, willing herself to stay calm, but the gnawing dread in her chest wouldn't subside. 

Anabella knew she had to prepare, to make arrangements to manage her heat away from prying eyes and potential dangers. But the thought of being alone, isolated during such an intense time, made her heart pound with anxiety.

She glanced around the bakery, her familiar sanctuary, now feeling more like a trap. She needed to find a way out, to retreat to the safety of her home where she could handle this on her terms. 

But with her workload piling up and the thought of facing Clair and Noah's worried faces, she felt trapped.

Anabella took a shaky breath, trying to gather her thoughts. She couldn't let this break her, not now. She would finish her shift, make some excuse, and get home before the heat overwhelmed her completely. 

She hoped she could hide this from everyone, to maintain the facade of control she had clung to so desperately.

As another wave of discomfort rolled through her, Anabella knew time was running short. She had to act fast, or she risked exposing her vulnerability in front of the entire bakery. 

With renewed determination, she pushed off from the counter, steeling herself for the hours ahead, aware that the real challenge was only just beginning.

Anabella paced around her living room, every step feeling like a monumental effort. 

The pangs of her approaching heat were growing stronger, and her body felt heavy and sluggish, as if weighed down by an unseen force. 

She needed to get out of the house to buy some essential supplies before her heat fully took hold, but each movement was a struggle.

She tried to muster the strength to get to the door, her fingers trembling as she reached for the handle. 

Her body, however, refused to cooperate. Her legs felt weak, threatening to give out beneath her, and her vision blurred slightly as a wave of dizziness hit her. S

he leaned against the wall, taking deep breaths in a futile attempt to steady herself.

"I can do this," she whispered, trying to convince herself. 

But even as the words left her lips, her body disagreed. The heat was sapping her energy, making her feel like she was wading through thick mud with every step.

Anabella knew she didn't have much time. If she didn't get the supplies now, she'd be stuck at home, unprepared and vulnerable during her heat. 

The thought of being caught unprepared filled her with dread. She had to push through, no matter how difficult it was.

With a shaky resolve, she forced herself upright, her hand gripping the door handle tightly for support. 

She couldn't let this stop her. Not yet. She had to move, to get what she needed before it was too late. 

Gathering what little strength she had left, Anabella opened the door and stepped outside, determined to fight through her body's resistance.

The days following Kouchi's successful acquisition of the Philosopher's Stone were filled with a strange unease. The professors, particularly the more observant ones, seemed to be walking on eggshells. Kouchi couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something… off in the air.

It wasn't just Professor Hooch, who had become even more distant than usual, or the nervous exchanges between Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick. It was everyone. There was a tension hanging over the staff, something unspoken.

Kouchi noticed it most when he passed them in the corridors or during meals in the Great Hall. The teachers exchanged brief, meaningful glances, and whispered conversations stopped when students walked by. It wasn't the usual banter between colleagues; it was something much more guarded.

He had no doubt that they knew the Philosopher's Stone was gone. He could feel it in the air, in the subtle way they avoided eye contact with the students, in the slight twitch of their hands when the subject of the Stone was brought up. But they said nothing. The mystery deepened.

One particular afternoon, Kouchi was sitting in the common room, idly flipping through his ninja scrolls, when the tension in the air seemed to shift again. The professors had gathered in a quiet corner of the staffroom, their voices hushed.

"Something's not right," Kouchi muttered to himself, watching them through the slightly ajar door.

There was a moment of silence, then McGonagall's stern voice rose above the others. "We cannot just ignore this. Dumbledore would want us to act."

Professor Flitwick's voice was barely audible. "But we can't let the students know. The consequences could be disastrous."

Kouchi's mind raced. He had heard enough to confirm what he suspected: the professors knew something was wrong, but they were unwilling to speak up. Whatever had happened to the Philosopher's Stone, they were keeping it from the students.

Kouchi decided to give it a rest for the moment. There was nothing he could do about the professors' secrets, not when they were so determined to keep their knowledge to themselves. He made a mental note to check the stone later that evening—after classes, once he had the chance to slip away.

But as the day wore on, something strange happened. A sense of restlessness swept over him. Something told him that it was time to leave early. He didn't know why, but he had a sudden urge to check up on the stone, to make sure it was still safe and hidden.

He stood up, slipping his scroll into his bag, and quietly left the common room. As he walked down the hall, a movement caught his eye. Hermione Granger, one of the students who had been more vocal about her worries in the past few days, dashed past him at a hurried pace.

Kouchi paused, his eyes narrowing.

It wasn't unusual for Hermione to be in a hurry, but this time, something about her seemed… different. Her face was pale, and she was breathing heavily, almost panicked.

Normally, Kouchi wouldn't have given it a second thought, but something about the way she rushed by made him pause.

'Something interesting would happen,' his instincts whispered, nudging him forward.

Without thinking, Kouchi followed her. His chakra flowed in a steady rhythm as he moved, making his footsteps silent and his presence undetectable. He didn't know what was going on, but his gut told him that he wasn't going to like it.

He turned a corner just in time to see Hermione disappear down a set of stairs that led to the dungeons.

Something wasn't right.

He followed, keeping his distance as Hermione rushed further into the depths of the castle. Kouchi's curiosity grew, and with it, his caution. The atmosphere in the dungeons felt heavier, colder, and his instincts were on high alert.

He reached the bottom of the stairs just in time to see Hermione push open a door—one that led to the lower corridors, where the students rarely ventured.

It was then that the ground began to tremble beneath him.

A deep, guttural growl echoed down the hall, followed by a crash that sent a shiver up Kouchi's spine. His heart raced, and he barely had time to react before a massive figure lumbered into view.

It was a troll.

A huge, lumbering troll, with an enormous club swinging wildly in its hands. The air reeked of its foul breath, and its beady eyes glinted in the dim light of the dungeon.

Kouchi froze for a moment, taking in the scene. Hermione stood frozen in place, her face a mask of fear as the troll approached.

Instinct kicked in.

Kouchi's hand moved to his side, pulling a kunai from his pouch. His Sharingan flashed, the crimson glow illuminating the dark corridor. 

He darted forward, his speed unmatched. The troll barely had time to react as Kouchi closed the distance, his chakra enhancing his movements.

With a flick of his wrist, Kouchi threw a kunai at the troll's face, distracting it momentarily. It roared in anger, swinging its massive club in retaliation. Kouchi ducked just in time, using the momentum to roll to his feet.

But he wasn't here to fight the troll. His objective was clear: protect Hermione, and make sure the troll didn't harm anyone else.

With one swift movement, Kouchi leapt onto the troll's back, his chakra enhancing his strength. He reached for the beast's head, grasping a handful of its coarse hair, and twisted with precision.

The troll howled, struggling to shake him off, but Kouchi's grip was firm. He used his chakra to reinforce his hold, forcing the troll's head down.

Just as he was preparing to neutralize the threat, a second figure appeared—a familiar one: Ron Weasley. The red-haired boy brandished a large branch, his face pale with fear.

Together, they managed to bring the troll down. Ron swung his makeshift weapon, hitting the troll square on the head. The creature collapsed with a final, earth-shattering thud.

Hermione, still in shock, slowly stepped forward, her hands trembling. "That… that was amazing," she whispered.

Kouchi allowed himself a small smile, though his mind was already elsewhere. The troll had been dealt with, but something was still off. He couldn't shake the feeling that the stone's disappearance had set a series of events in motion.

Something bigger was at play.